Paint Me A Dancer
by GoldenPocketWatch
Summary: Alfred's a talented painter who has a problem with his career and getting a model might be his only solution to his problem. Well, not just any model, he needed someone who would truly inspire him and be his master piece. Human AU. Painter!USxDancer!UK [Cover Drawn/Made By: SmileyAnomia]
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"What is this?" The hotel owner asked as he held up the painting within an arm length, examining it with inquisitive ruby eyes. A small grimace slowly formed on his face and he slowly set the frame down with a disappointed look.

"I don't know if you're blind Gilbert but that is a Venus fly trap," The blond painter replied, his fingers playing with the hem of his blue tie and his brows furrowed within a second.

"I know what the heck is that, Alfred." The older man spat while rising to his feet. He slowly walked towards the other man and he lazily slung his arm across his shoulders. "Let me show you something."

He dragged the artist towards the lounge and he paused in front of a beautifully painted artwork. "See that?" Gilbert cooed as he gestured the said piece. "That's Titanic and guess who painted that."

Alfred secretly rolled his eyes and muttered, "Me…"

Gilbert clapped his hands in a sarcastic manner and they moved along to the second painting hanging on the wall. "What about this?"

"That's Niagara Falls made by the great me." The younger man huffed.

Gilbert nodded his head and continued. "What about that, and that?" He pointed them one by one and the bloke beside him answered them all in one sentence.

"I made all of that."

The albino grinned for a short second before it was replaced by a scowl. "You get the point?" He hissed as he turned Alfred around in order to face him. "You painted magnificently before, doing Niagara Falls to Big Ben, now you're giving me what? A Venus fly trap? Are you kidding me?"

The blond's eyes widen in confusion and he unconsciously loosen his tie. What had happened to him? He was a famous painter before and he did magnificent pieces, now he's doing what? A plant? He ran his eyes along the paintings he previously did and he cleared his throat to ease the silence. "But I don't see anything wrong with it." He defended the poor thing.

Gilbert puffed his cheeks and he pulled away with a sour look. "Yeah, nothing's wrong with it. The problem is not about your paintings, it's about you."

"About me? How is that?"

"Remember the last painting you sold me?"

The American artist pondered for a moment before parting his lips. "A rainbow?"

"Exactly! A fucking rainbow!" Gilbert hollered before twisting his head to check the lady working in the reception area. He sent her an apologetic smile for shouting all of a sudden and he went back to face Alfred. "Your works are getting unawesomer and unawesomer."

The younger man was left dumbfounded at his words and he averted his blue eyes away from his red ones. He set it towards the wooden table located at the near corner and he sighed secretly to himself. "Then what do you want me to paint?" He grumbled lowly to himself, the bitterness could be easily heard in his voice.

"I don't know!" Gilbert howled and flailed his arms upward, exaggerating everything to the fullest. "Paint me something better than those things on the wall! Because if not, I might get a new artist that would do awesomer works than you!" He jabbed a finger on the other's chest before stepping back.

"Give me a break!" Now Alfred was the one shouting at him, his patience meter down to zero. "I've been painting for you for almost two years now and you're going to replace me with just a blink of an eye?" He questioned, his face slowly turning red in anger. "Dude, that sucks ass!"

The older man lolled his head backwards and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then paint me something! I want your new painting here by the end of the week, that or I'm getting a new artist. Understand?"

Alfred could do nothing but nod his head in a bitter agreement. He marched out of the place, no longer wanting to be a part of the conversation which may lead him to a violent path he'd rather not take. He wanted to breathe some fresh air since all he had ever breathed inside there was Gilbert's expensive cologne.

He pushed the glass doors open and stepped out onto the outside world, a warm breeze instantly hitting him on the face. He shoved his hands inside his jacket's pockets and he continued to strut in a slow pace, eyeing the open stores as if they were something very interesting.

"Huh, paint him something, eh?" He muttered to himself in a resentful way and he kicked the nearby stone away from his lane. "He's a greedy bastard, what's wrong with the Venus fly trap?

He abruptly halted from his tracks and he turned around in horror when he remembered that he forgot his artwork inside Gilbert's office. He uncertainly paced back and forth, ignoring the bewildered looks from the people around him, and at last, he decided that going back wasn't worth it.

"Fuck that shit!" He roared and quickly turned left to take the longer route towards his house. He needed time to think and walking might just help him do that.

What he didn't know was that taking that road would also help him in his problem.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Alfred F. Jones, a gifted lad when it comes to painting and has been working under Gilbert for quite some time now, is sickly worried about his career. He had been walking for a total of 40 minutes yet, he didn't find any amazing thing to paint on his way.

"As if I'd find something great in this place." He annoyingly reminded himself.

Just as he was about to turn right, his eyes landed on the gathering crowd and a soft jazz instantly filled the air he was currently breathing. He looks at both of his sides and with an unsure smile, he secretly tiptoed towards the circle. He was guessing that a group of young people are playing a jazz but the circle was to small for a piano and a drum to fit in. The gathering peeps didn't actually bothered him at first, but as the mass cheered and clapped, he forcedly pushed himself towards the front, discounting the hisses and the complains.

Once he was able to see what was happening, he caught himself staring at the single bloke dancing around in a graceful manner. He was wearing a white tank top beneath a red and white jacket, and his hair was tousled and was dripping with sweat. The light from the sunset had fallen across the dancer's face bathing his features in a heavenly gold, Alfred was quite sure his breath had caught in his throat.

He wanted to tear his eyes away from him but he couldn't do anything. He couldn't stop himself from staring shamelessly as the man jumped around and swayed to the beat. He could feel himself slowly melting at the sight.

What brought him back to reality was when the dancing man across him met his eyes and God, he couldn't help but gawked at the greenest green he had ever seen.

The music slowly faded and the crowd started throwing money on the hat that sat on the floor. Alfred mechanically fished his wallet and dropped two dollars on the said thing.

He went home smiling that day.

"Good job!" Gilbert grinned as he examined the new artwork submitted by Alfred on the exact deadline."I like how green it is, very… good."

Alfred wasn't sure if he was going to be flattered or not since Gilbert's voice wasn't exactly _that_ jolly. He awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to another and he landed his eyes on the other's.

"Thank you?" He whispered but the man across him was able to catch it. The buyer smiled and lifted the painting, inspecting it from side to side. "I suppose this is good now but still, I wanted something awesomer."

Alfred gaped at him and he angrily shook his fists. "Isn't that enough?" He bellowed and Gilbert let out a hearty chuckle.

"Buckle up, I'm still buying this Green viper of yours, I love how you colored it." He commented and took his check out of the drawer. "How much?"

The painter stood there with an unimpressed look etched on his face but he gave him the price nonetheless. After everything was settled and a few handshakes from the two, Alfred walked out and hoped that he could satisfy Gilbert the next time.

He took the longer route again, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dancer that gave him the idea in regarding the Green Viper. If it wasn't for his green eyes that captivated Alfred in first sight, he might have lost Gilbert and his career.

The walk was fast and swift and he was glad that only a little crowd was there since the guy had just began his dancing. He took his place in the front and he smiled deeply when their eyes connected once again. It was that sight that Alfred won't ever forget and would dream of whenever he was sleeping. He could just stare at it the whole day and would never get bored.

The man started with a slow dance at first but when the beat picked up its pace, so was his dancing. He gracefully swiveled at the sound of the jazz and Alfred couldn't help but notice that his blond hair was already messy before he started dancing. The crowd started to gather once again and when the music ended, money poured here and there. Alfred dropped five dollars this time.

Before he could turn around and walk away, someone held his arm and he instantly whipped his head at the back. The first thing that captured him was the green eyes that belonged to someone he had been watching awhile ago and his heart started to beat in a horrendous pace.

"So you're the guy who has been giving me large amount of chunks." The dancer spoke in a foreign accent and Alfred determine that it was British. "I thank you for that."

He stood there with a red face and he regained his composure after five seconds later. "No problem," He rolled the words out of his tongue and he helped himself from wandering his eyes across the other's features. "Wow, thick brows," He commented nonchalantly when his eyes landed on the large eyebrows no man could easily possessed.

The dancer scowled a bit and released his arm in an instant. "Excuse me?" He inquired and crossed his arms above his chest. Alfred couldn't help but smile at the pouting man in front of him.

"I didn't mean to criticize them, take what I said as a compliment, dude." He laughed obnoxiously and the other scrunched up his face in distaste. How dare this man call him dude? That is so improper!

"I'll let you pass this time for criticizing my brows- nope, don't cut me off, I'll take that as a criticism," He held a hand up when he saw the man about to part his lips. "And that's just because you gave me a lot of money, not because you look charming and hot."

Alfred was, needless to say, confuse about the man's attitude but he shrugged them off when he realizes something. "So, you think I'm charming and hot?" A smile stretched on his lips and he winked at the dancer who was now turning beet red.

"I-I did not think of that!" He stuttered a bit and stomped his foot to look a bit intimidating but all it did was make him cute in Alfred's eyes.

"Yes, you did~" The painter sang and earned a slap on the arm. He laughed at him and stretched his hand out for the other to shake. "I'm Alfred F. Jones!" He introduced enthusiastically before saluting with his other hand.

The dancer gave him a hesitant look before checking both of his sides for nothing in particular. A few seconds later, he took the other's hand and shook it. "Arthur Kirkland's the name."

They stood there appreciating each other's warm hand, both not wanting to let go immediately. Arthur couldn't help but notice how smooth Alfred's palm is but at the same time, calloused. They stood there, link to each other until Arthur snapped out of his reverie.

"I-I guess, I have to go home." He mumbled awkwardly as he pulled away his hand, the warm feeling disappearing in an instant.

Alfred secretly whined at the lost contact but he tipped his invisible hat and grinned anyway. "See you somewhere again, Arthur." He waved and started to strut but he paused mid-way. "It's nice meeting you!" He shouted at him and disappeared around the corner.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

That night, Alfred sat on his working room with his paint tools propped beside him. He was planning to burn the midnight oil tonight and that's because of Arthur, his new dancing friend. You can just say that he's inspired to the fullest and a burning feeling won't dissolve inside his chest until he ran his brush across the canvass.

He swiped here and there, mixed colours on the palette, and sigh contently every now and then. He wanted this to be beautiful, graceful, much like the same with Arthur. His brain wandered back to the time where they met and introduced themselves to each other and he couldn't help but smile at the memory. He unconsciously grasped the hand that Arthur shook and a wider smile appeared on his face. Man, what was happening to him? How could Arthur make him act like this?

He was halfway through his work when his cat, Ace, an American short hair, crawled onto his lap. He pet the ball of fur before setting him back down on the floor. "Not now, boy." He spoke softly and returned back to work. "Papa needs to finish something."

He imagined Arthur's touch once again and an even wider smiled spread on his face. He painted the golden butterfly fluttering on the greenest leaves and he could feel the joy radiating inside him. The main colors of his painting were gold as Arthur's messy hair and green as his beautiful eyes. He hoped that Gilbert would enjoy this one as much as he did but it turned out he was wrong.

"What is this, Jones?" The older man whined as he inspected the artwork that was done wholeheartedly the previous night. He was about to flip the said thing off his table when Alfred growled and stopped him from doing so.

"Don't you dare do that." He emphasized each word and glared at the man across him who only rolled his eyes in return.

"You're getting gayer and gayer, Alfred." He jeered and pushed the piece towards the other's chest and Alfred caught it with pure care. "I understand your sexuality bro, but don't apply it on your fucking paintings."

The artist's eyes watered for a bit and he blinked back the tears. "I'm not applying it! And speak for yourself, as if you weren't gay like me!"

The German owner growled and rose up in a fast manner, making his chair stumble and fall with a loud thud. "Watch your mouth!"

The blond bit back another retort and only exhaled loudly in return. "Whatever," He muttered afterwards.

The atmosphere around them thickened and if one of them won't speak, they would surely suffocate. Alfred decided he would be the one breaking the ice but Gilbert beat him to it. "Jones, this will be the last time, okay?" He said quietly but his words were firm and strong. "I would give you one last chance and if your works wouldn't improve, I'm sorry."

He quickly turned his back and that's when Alfred lose it.

"What do you want me to paint then?!" He screamed and slammed his balled up fist on the table, a loud bang echoed around the room. "Tell me so I could satisfy your fucking taste!"

Gilbert didn't seem to budge by the loud noises and he only sighed loudly. "I don't know Alfred, paint me a dancer." He muttered sarcastically but Alfred took it literally.

"Then why didn't you say so?" He said at his fullest volume before running towards the door and twisting it open. "Give me a week, Gilbert." He smiled and slammed it close afterwards.

The man inside slowly turned his heel around and pinched the spot in between his eyes. "I was just sarcastic, you fucking shit."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Alfred rushed down the walkway with his face scrunched up in determination, his cape fluttering loudly behind him. He needed to see Arthur, he needed his help, he needed him in a jiffy…

He walked towards the familiar place where the said lad dances and a small smile made its way up towards his face. The spot gives him a warm fluttering feeling inside his chest and he could just stand there and let the feeling linger but he has business to do. With a deep sigh, he tucked the painting in between his armpit and stepped forward towards the thick crowd.

As usual, he pushed his way in and stopped until he was a few meters away from the dancer. He let out a contented puff as he let his eyes wander across the other's glorious features. From his hair, to his brows, to his creamy pale skin, and to his awesome shaped ass… not that Alfred stared at it directly, it might be too obvious.

Arthur may have seen him since he flashed a surprise look at his direction but he didn't stop dancing nonetheless, it even went better. A smile graces his thin lips and he swayed perfectly to the beat of _All That Jazz_ and if Alfred wasn't stupid enough, he would have guessed that Arthur was luring him towards his own trap. Well, a trap that the dancer himself don't even understand, maybe just to tease the American a bit?

He turned his heel around in the sexiest way he could and when his back was on the crowd, rather on Alfred, he dropped on his knees and lifted his ass up in the slowest way possible, mimicking the lyrics with his mouth. He faced them afterwards and he sashayed towards the blond American, twirling at the third step before graciously lifting his arms up and eyeing him hungrily.

" _It's just a noisy hall, where there's a nightly brawl…"_ He paused, turned around, and posed with his nose up high, his eyes directed at the pools of blue irises he found endearing to stare. " _And all that jazz!"_

He received multiple howling noises and whistles from the girls and boys around him and money once again, showered his cap on the floor. When the crowd slowly diminished, Alfred decided to drop his donation.

"Hm, 5 dollars again." Arthur commented and slung his arm across the other's shoulders. "That was for you, you know?" He whispered afterwards.

Alfred's face turned a darker shade of red and he jerk himself away, much to Arthur's disappointment. "Well, uh…" He found himself lost in words and he unconsciously rubbed the nape of his neck. "That was _very_ entertaining, thank you."

Arthur let out a soft chuckle and he quickly picked up his cap. "Glad for it, boy." He waved his other hand and was about to walk away when Alfred stopped him.

"Erm, I know this is really awkward but I didn't come here just to watch your performance." He mumbled sheepishly and averted his eyes away from the curious green ones. "I know we haven't really met _yet_ but I need your help."

Arthur was simply taken aback by his words and he took a step backward. "What?"

"I need your help."

"Bloody hell, Alfred, I'm a dancer, not some help center. Go find someone who can help you." He spat at the blond, his eyes running up and down from the other's jeans, looking for some bulge- _Wait, I did not just think of that as his problem!_

"But it's really important! I might lose my job because of it!" Alfred countered back.

Arthur's face heated up and he mentally slapped himself for thinking such perverted thoughts. He looks back to his 'semi-friend' and saw him pouting, his lower lip jutting out in the cutest way Arthur never could imagine. With a scoff, he parted his lips to speak. "And how can I help you, mister?"

The blue-eyed man brightened up in an instant and he took the painting tucked in his armpit. He eagerly showed Arthur his work and with a smile etched on his face, he said, "Look!"

The Briton's comically large brows furrowed as he examined the painting but his expression softened seconds later. "Nice butterfly, didn't know you were into insects." He commented. "Or wait, you want me to catch you one, don't you?"

Alfred slammed his palm against his scrunched up face and he sighed deeply at the other's reaction. "I'm a painter, Arthur, for Pete's sake."

"You're kidding me, right?" Arthur asked in awe as he grabbed the painting from the other's hand, inspecting its every detail in bewildered green eyes. "You did a pretty good job! It's very… captivating."

Alfred swallowed a spit full of embarrassment and he fiddled with the hem of his brown bomber jacket. "Thank you, but as I was saying, I need your help."

Arthur lowered the piece and hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. "Okay then, but that still depends on what you're asking."

Alfred took a deep breath before flashing him his 100 watt grin. "Be my model."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Excuse me?" Arthur asked in surprise, his voice jumping three octaves. "Did I just hear you right?"

The painter nodded.

"Bloody hell, no!" Arthur screamed and backed away in horror, his hand gripping the edge of the painting and Alfred paid no attention on how strong his grasps were. All he needed to attend right now is the Briton.

"Aw, please?" He begged him.

"I'm so sorry but I don't do modeling and, and- damn, don't you dare pull that pouting trick on me, Jones!"

The American smiled a bit for Arthur remembered his last name but he returned back to his puppy eyes mode. "Aw, c'mon Artie, I really need you, so, so much!" He practically whined and attracted a second batch of crowd. "I'll even pay you big time!"

The dancer looked away but his cries were overpowering it made him look back in an instant. He can't just resist those eyes and jutting lower lip, plus, he needed money for his rent so he guess it's a win-win. Alfred gets his share and he, his portion. "Okay then," He muttered at last and the American pumped his fist up with a strong 'Yes!' escaping his mouth.

"Thank you so much, Arthur!" He screamed loudly and crushed the Brit in a bear hug. The poor bloke, tried to wriggle himself free but the American was way too strong for him. He could not just escape that easily.

"C-can't… breathe!" He gasped and writhed again in a poor attempt to save himself.

"Oh," Was all Alfred said before releasing the red face man, but still holding him however. "But really, I'm so happy, Arthur. Thank you."

The sincerity in his voice was overwhelming and Arthur swore he could just melt in his arms once again but he pulled away with a small beam (and a light blush he doesn't want to admit). "I-I'm not doing it for you, git! I'm doing it for the money!"

Alfred let out a few chuckles before straitening up. "So, where do you live?" He asked casually as if he was Arthur's closest friend.

The Briton shook his head in horror and he simply slapped his approaching hand. "I'm not telling you that, arsehat!" He growled and tried his best to look threatening but he totally sucks ass at that.

"But we have to get your clothes, you have to stay with me for a few nights."

"I have to what?!" Arthur inquired, a new expression painted clearly on his face. "Hold on a second, I can't just stay on your house! Hell, I barely know you!"

"Does that matter?" He complained loudly as he slumped his shoulders. Oh how mature of him.

"Of course! You could be a bloody murderer or-" He suddenly stopped when he scanned Alfred's face. No, this bloke didn't even look close to the thing he just accused him. "Well, maybe a drug dealer."

"Seriously, Artie-"

"Don't call me that!"

"Arthur," the American drawled. "I'm not going to harm you, my job relies on you."

As much as Arthur wanted to argue, Alfred was right. His job relies on him. "Why me?" He suddenly asked.

The blue-eyed boy thought for a moment and when he didn't speak for a while, Arthur snapped at him.

"Okay, okay!" He muttered, his hands flying up to defend himself. "I picked you because you got me at first sight, especially your eyes and… and my boss wants me to paint him a dancer." He paused as he felt his cheeks heat up, he's so blunt he can't believe it himself.

"Your boss wants you to paint him a dancer?"

"Well yes, but I really want to paint you, especially your eyes." At the mention of that, Arthur quickly looked away and suppressed a blush.

"Git, my eyes are nothing special."

"No!" Alfred roared but he apologized afterwards for rising his tone so sudden. "Don't say that, it's the most perfect eyes I've ever seen in my whole life."

Arthur's face went 50 shades of red and he bit his lower lip to stop himself from feeling giddy and excited. But something hit him… "Wait, you sounded gay."

Alfred quickly averted his eyes away and he hastily changed the topic. "So, where do you live? We don't have all day."

Arthur puffed his cheeks and look towards the small apartment that could be seen from their spot. He gave out a long sigh before smiling at the eager man beside him. "I think I need to stay home tonight, we could just start tomorrow." He suggested and when he saw Alfred about to give him another puppy look, he stopped him. "That or nothing, okay?"

The American could do nothing but nod his head.

"We'll see each other tomorrow afternoon at exact 1 PM." Arthur said as he fixed himself once again. "See that café over there?"

Another nod from the painter.

"I'll be waiting there for you." The Brit offered him one of his rarest smile and he quickly held the painting towards the other man. "But seriously though, you have such great talent."

Alfred let out a toothy grin and he slowly pushed the piece back. "If you like it that much, you can have it." He said, his voice soft and caring… It was _very_ sincere.

The green eyed man blushed once again and slowly embraced the item. "T-Thank you, it's really lovely for you to give this art to me."

"No problem." Alfred smiled and waved his hand as a sign of goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow then, pack some things, 'kay?"

The Brit rolled his eyes at him. "I will, you git."

They parted with a happy aura lingering their body, a promise to see each other imprinted in their brains.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hello, chaps! First of all, thank you so much for the favourites, reviews, and follows! I really appreciate them and you don't have any idea how much they make my day :) Well, let's get it on to the next chapter!

 **Chapter 6**

Alfred woke up at 8 the next day, prepared himself to the fullest, and headed straight to his garage to pull out his Chevy truck. He had been thinking all night about what Arthur should wear and what other props he would need in his painting and even lured himself to sleep thinking of Arthur's eyes.

Today, he settled on buying the Brit those requirements in the local supermarket located near the exclusive pub and he was sure that his new friend wouldn't mind the little set up.

"And oh, which would go better with green?" Alfred help up the two scarves and asked the saleslady who merely stared at him in confusion.

"Well, erm, the tan scarf would simply make the color green outstand so I guess that's more better than the red one."

The American nodded with a large grin and he quickly shove the item inside the basket, and headed towards the trench coats. He randomly picked a navy blue one, Arthur's size, and tossed it in. One could simply say that this blond was not into shopping as he picked out random stuffs, examining it within a millisecond before taking it.

He was about to go and pay for the objects but his eyes caught something glittering from the far corner. Without a double thought, he decided to approach the said thing.

"It's really rare nowadays," Another worker told him as he ran his fingers on the marble like cover, a smile slowly forming on his lips. "Can I open it?" The bespectacled blond asked.

The worker nodded and gestured for him to do so and he took the chance right away. He slowly lifted the cover and he twisted the key a couple of times, making the male dancer twirl with the soft melody. It reminded him so much of Arthur he decided to purchase the music box too.

"Maybe I could give it to him once the job's done." He told himself but he paused when his heart suddenly ached. What then after the deal's done? Would they still be friends? Would Arthur still dedicate a dance to him and look at him with fiery green eyes? Would Alfred still pass by that street?

He shook the thoughts off his head and he mentally told himself that he should better focus on the present and not on the future. With a new beam, he marched towards the cashier and paid the items.

"You're just in time, " Alfred spoke as he held up his cup of coffee to his lips and blew the steam off. "Very punctual of you, Mr. England."

The Brit puffed his cheeks and sat across him with a scowl glued to his face, a duffle bag to his right. "And so are you, I thought you would have been late, Mr. America."

The two exchanged a glance and soon, a smile crept towards their lips.

"You know, I like that nickname…" Arthur suddenly stated which caused the American to chuckle in delight. The blue eyed man sipped contentedly from his drink and after that, spoke in an equal tone. "Glad you like it."

Silence overtook them and they both averted their eyes away from each other. Alfred could feel his face slowly burning and he stole a glance from Arthur's direction, grinning for the small Brit was also blushing up to the tips of his ears. "So, England-"

"Arthur,"

The painter quirked a brow up. Didn't he say he liked the nickname? "Well, uh, Arthur… you wanted to order something?"

"It's 'Do you want to order something,' not that. Proper English, please."

The American puffed his cheeks and rolled his cerulean eyes at him. "Whatever, just tell me your answer, bruh."

The corner of the Englishman's eye ticked in irritation but he decided to let the Yank pass. "I have eaten already, I don't want to order something."

With a small nod, Alfred rose up from his seat and Arthur mirrored his action. "I guess we have to go to my house now." He stated and the Brit softly bobbed his head. They sauntered outside and Alfred paused in front of his vehicle and fished out his keys from his cave-like pocket.

"You own that truck?" Arthur suddenly gasped when his eyes landed on the red Chevy that was parked just outside the lot.

The American nodded and led him to the other side, opening the door as if Arthur was some kind of a lady but the dancer didn't mind one bit. He was too amazed to notice the gesture. "You must have been very rich to afford that."

"Not that rich, Artie."

"I prefer England,"

"Make up your mind, dude." Alfred laughed as he slammed the door close, he then ran to the driver's side. "You're really confusing to me, you know?"

"How is that, twat?"

Alfred shrugged and pushed his key in, starting the engine. "I don't know, one minute you like something and then the next thing I know, you hate it. You're not bipolar, are you?"

Arthur's face turned scarlet and he fumbled with the strap of his bag. "I-idiot! Of course, I am not!" He spat at the other.

Alfred smiled to himself as he concentrated on the road ahead of them. "You know what?"

"What?"

"If I were gay, I'd fall in love with you."

If Arthur was the one driving at that time, Alfred was 100 percent certain that they would crash against the post. Luckily, the Brit was just sitting and not doing the wheel but that does not mean he didn't react violently. He jumped from his seat, hit his head against the roof, and started ranting in English Alfred didn't even understand. He quickly regretted his decision about telling Arthur _that_.

"Do you know how improper was that?!" He exclaimed as he rubbed the sore spot on the top of his head. "That was just very… blunt!"

Alfred sucked quite an air and grumbled his reply. "Well, I'm not gay, okay? I just said that because yeah…"

Arthur's face quickly paled and he shifted awkwardly from his seat. "Y-you're not?"

The American sighed once again and threw him a short look. "I am." He admitted quietly and waited for Arthur to scream stop or jump off of his truck but neither of that happened. What he heard next nearly made them both crash.

"I am too…"

There are only two things that Alfred could use to describe right now, awkward and silent. Mix the two and you'll get 'Awkward Silence'. He bit his lower lip and he forced himself on the road but his body betrayed him, stealing a glance or two from the dancer.

"What a bloody confession," Arthur suddenly stated and Alfred was scared that the guy might back off the deal. "I've never been really that open to my sexuality."

Alfred was, least to say, happy that the guy decided to tell him. "Oh, wow."

A small laugh escaped the Brit's pink lips and Alfred stared at him in a short moment before taking his eyes back ahead of them. Maybe… just _maybe_ he would court the guy once they deeply know each other.

"How did you know you were like that anyway?" Arthur asked, his eyes trained on Alfred's face and the one driving the truck coughed awkwardly.

"Well, there's this guy in my class when I was in middle school, I think he's Russian or something… he kissed me, full on the lips." Alfred paused as he grimaced at the memory.

"Was he the one who made you realize you were gay?"

"No!" Alfred snapped immediately. "God, no, just no. He did it and I was raging in fury that I beat him up to a pulp."

"Alfred!"

"Shush now, I beat him up and I went home that day very pissed, I painted a shotgun aiming at a scarf owned by a certain someone. Then, I asked Google what should I do if someone with same gender kissed me and the results turned my life upside down."

Arthur nodded to let the guy know that he's on ears.

"I found this one website on the search results, I think it was… gay porn or something."

"God, that is so straightforward Alfred!" Arthur laughed once again and a smile made its way up to Alfred's features. "But continue, please."

"So yeah, I clicked that shit and let's just say that a new queer had been welcomed to the gay society."

Arthur burst out laughing and he absentmindedly clutched his own stomach. Man, he didn't know that Alfred could be that funny. He truly enjoyed that part of him.

"You are hilarious, you know?" He commented later as he wiped a stray tear away from his eyes.

Alfred was still dumbfounded by the other's outburst but he sent him a grin however. He didn't really expect to make this man laugh… nor even smile. "Thank you, England."

Arthur beamed as he slowly bowed his head down. "No problem, America."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Alfred stretched his arms up and moaned at the sudden feeling of excitement. He could not wait to sit down and paint the marvelous man across him who was too busy gawking at his house. "Come on, Artie." He whined as he grabbed his arm. "It's not that big."

"For you that is," The other retorted, his green eyes full of admiration and awe. "This is like my dream house or something."

The American smiled for no reason and dragged the smaller man towards the entrance. "Well, if you want to stay here forever, then stay!" He joked but it wasn't even clear to him if it was just one or not. Well, he couldn't deny the fact that he had thought of the latter.

"You're such an idiot, you know?" Arthur noted and let the bespectacled bloke drag him inside.

Arthur was impressed of how clean the living room was, it was surrounded by different canvasses and pieces and he felt himself slowly falling in love with the other's work. He sauntered towards the hallway and eyed each artworks with appreciation etched on his face.

"You like them?"

The Brit snapped out of his daze and faced the owner of the voice beside him. "Well, yes I do. I mean, how could one not like these master pieces."

Alfred let out a soft chuckle. "They aren't my master pieces _yet_ , Arthur."

The dancer blushed and tried to conceal his red face away from Alfred but failed to do so.

"Thank you though," The American continued. "You appreciate every single thing about me. From my rejected painting, to my car, to my house, and to these… thank you very much."

Arthur could feel the other's gaze boring deeply into his figure and he coughed to cover up the awkward feeling rushing towards him. "E-err, no problem."

"I guess you should rest now, you have to stay still for a couple of hours later." Alfred clapped the other's shoulders and he escorted him towards the guest room located at the second floor across his own. Truth to be told, he wanted to spend time with Arthur rather than letting the man rest.

"Oh sure, that would be lovely."

There goes his accent making poor Alfred mushy inside. If the American wasn't holding his shoulders, he would've melted right then and there on the spot. "Lovely," He echoed with a dreamy smile.

Alfred was sitting on the kitchen counter, whistling and sketching something on his pad, a cup of mug sitting beside him. He decided to do some little workout before he paints the dancer and he was very pleased of the outcome.

He smiled contently and brought the cup to his lips, licking the brim and chugging the contents down. A small shuffle startled him and he quickly sat up from his position. "Artie?"

"Arthur," The Brit corrected him and showed up with his messy blonde hair. He yawned secretively before running his eyes along the place. "Nice kitchen…"

"Thank you,"

The green eyed man smiled for a second before pulling a chair out and sitting on it. "Do you mind?" He asked him.

"Oh no, pretend this is your home."

Arthur smiled once again, grateful for the kind man within the same room with him. "That's too much, Alfred."

"Nothing's too much, Artie." He replied with a wink.

A new feeling blossomed inside the Briton and it made his heart pound despite the horrendous nickname. He quickly looked away and busied himself with the hem of his shirt. "You do know I'm gay, right?"

Alfred nodded and skipped towards him, a flirtatious smile present on his feature. " _What'sa_ matter, England?" He purred and ran a hand through the other's fringe. "Good ol' Alfie's not allowed to flirt with you, hm?"

If the American's weakness is British Accent, one could say that Arthur's was Southern accent. He pulled away with a small jerk and he fanned his burning cheeks. "Git, don't make this awkward between the two of us."

Alfred just laughed his obnoxious laugh and lolled his head backwards. "I'm just kidding, dude."

"You better be."

"Anyway," Alfred droned and pulled out a chair and sat beside him. "Let's get to know each other!"

Arthur rolled his eyes but agreed anyhow at the other's request. "Whatever you say."

The American hummed for a bit before grinning his 100 watt grin. "What's your favorite color?"

"Always blue," Arthur paused as Alfred leaned closer, making him view his sparkling blue eyes. "B-but that doesn't mean I'm enthralled by those orbs, bloody hell!"

"Oh, okay then." He pulled away and laughed. "Mine's green, by the way. The same shade as your… 'orbs'."

Now Arthur's cheeks were beet red again and his head started to spin around the room. "You bloody twat, stop flattering me!"

"Nuh-uh."

The dancer clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and he looked away and settled his eyes on the coffee maker. "When's your birthday?"

"Fourth of July!" The other screamed with full pride and joy, his fist up in the air.

Okay, that was one wrong move for Arthur to ask. He didn't really appreciate the fact that the bloke was born on the day their country was defeated by the Yanks. He shifted on his seat and a small scowl appeared on his face. "Wonderful,"

"Aw come on, pal! I know the Brits and the Americans don't have an awesome past regarding that day but at least be grateful that a man like me was born to be your future boyfriend!" Alfred piped up but immediately regretted his words as his cheeks flamed from the abrupt sentence. "I-I mean, well… erm, _fuck._ "

The two tried their best to avoid eye contact to lessen the thick atmosphere. The only sound that could be heard was the slow breathing of a man, namely, Alfred F. Jones.

"I… I was born in April 23," Arthur suddenly broke the ice, his gaze settled on his lap. He swore he could feel his heart about to leap off of him any minute from now.

Alfred grinned a toothy one before rubbing the nape of his neck. "Well, that's nice to know."

"So," The Brit has now, thankfully, composed himself a _bit_ and he clapped his palms together. "When are you going to paint me?"

"Whenever you're ready,"

"C-can I ask you a favor then?" He asked sheepishly. "I mean, we haven't started yet so I guess this could pass time."

The sudden question made Alfred drop his grin into a small smile and he cocked his head to the side. "Sure, bro!"

"Let me dance for you."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Hey there again! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and I just want to thank you guys so much for loving this fic, especially iwillbehere09 for being a sweet chap! I couldn't message you so I decided to talk to you through here. I'm really glad that I got you excited again :)

 **Chapter 8**

Alfred awkwardly looked around his living room as he waited for Arthur to step out. After the smaller man's request, he immediately granted it with a large beam, telling him to stay put while he takes out his newly bought 'costumes'. Sadly, Arthur laughed and denied them, telling him that those wouldn't be comfortable to dance with, especially the trench coat but he said he appreciated it anyhow. He then excused himself and told him to stay at the couch while he prepare himself.

Right now, the American was fumbling with the fly of his bomber jacket, _patiently_ waiting for the dancer to show up. And minutes later, a pair of footsteps sounded from the stairs.

"Sorry for the delay," The English man smiled apologetically as he rubbed his arms.

Alfred perked up at the sight of him and he can't help himself from whistling at the view. Arthur was wearing a black button up shirt accompanied with a red tie and black jeans. He's undeniably hot and what even made him hotter was when he rolled up the sleeves up to his arms, showing off his creamy pale skin. If Alfred was semi hard already, what would happen if Arthur started dancing? Damn the Brit.

"So, I um… I picked a random song and I hope you'll like it." The dancer spoke quietly while puffing his red cheeks.

"Take the spotlight, Artie!"

"For the hundredth time, it's Arthur, not Artie!" He countered back but shrugged afterwards as he pushed the play button from the cassette he always brought along.

The music started to play and Arthur, stepped back with a smirk plastered on his lips. It amazes Alfred how the man can change his emotion within a short moment.

" _He's a cold hearted snake, look into his eyes, oh!_ " The Briton dropped on the floor and crawled on fours while keeping his eyes on Alfred's wide blue ones. " _He's been tellin' lies_ ,"

He slowly sits up and he started touching himself from the stomach to his neck, gliding his pale hands smoothly and graciously. The sitting man could only gulp and watch.

" _He's a lover boy at play, he don't play the rules_ , _oh_." Arthur was now lying on his back and was slowly lifting his hips up, pumping the air with a lop-sided grin. Oh how he loves teasing the American. " _Boy don't play the fool- no,_ "

He slowly picked himself up and he squatted with his legs far apart from each other, his arms lifted above his head. He swayed to the beat and mimicked every word, never leaving the blue eyes that watches him with what he could only define as _lust_.

" _It was only late last night, he was out there sneakin',_ " He slowly rose to his feet and he sashayed towards Alfred, stopping when he was only an arm length. He brought his index finger to the other's red face and he slowly grazes his cheek. Alfred stiffened but didn't do anything to make him cease his movements.

" _Then he called you up to check that you were waiting by the phone_." He pulled back with a jerk and he threw himself to the floor and landed on his butt. He waved his body and _God_ , Alfred couldn't deny that his pants were getting tighter and tighter by the second. Could he last until Arthur's done? What an awkward boner he got there.

Now fuck everything for Arthur was humping an imaginary pole and Alfred shifted uneasily on his seat, a hard thing was already poking from his jeans. He looked away but the dancer grabbed his face and forced him to look at him in the eyes, those green, _green,_ eyes.

"Please stop," He quietly whispered but was enough for the other to hear. He _really_ wanted him to continue but Alfred's afraid he might lose control and take the Englishman right then and there. Arthur's vulnerable for him, he doesn't want to harass the man.

Arthur stopped his movements and for a second, gave Alfred a worried look. "Are you okay?" He rose up and quickly shut the music off leaving them both in silence. He admits that he was off the line already and his teasings were already overboard, the proof was Alfred's heavy breathing.

The American's eyes were trained on his hands on his lap and he tried to conceal the bulge away from Arthur's sight. "I-I'm… fine," He muttered quietly and he hurriedly rose up and rushed towards his own room. Arthur was quick on heels behind him.

"Alfred, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," The bespectacled man paused, his back turned and he forced himself to laugh to assure the other. "Just a little problem."

"Please enlighten me,"

Alfred's face turned a deep shade of red and he shook his head at the other. "N-no, it's quite alright, really."

"Are you sure? Maybe you could use some help?" Damn Arthur and his eagerness.

"Nah, I can handle this." He continued to walk again and when he was in front of his room, he threw a back glance to the other. "I don't think I'll be able to paint you tonight though." He said.

Arthur sent him an anxious look and a remorseful smile made its way up to his face. "I apologize once again for teasing you."

"It's okay, England, no big deal." He sent him back a smile and he slowly closed the door of his room. He took a peek at his still hard member and he quickly rushed inside his bathroom. For now, his upcoming piece was the least problem he had to take care of for a new and obvious one right now had to be solved.

 **A/N:** Review please? :3


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Alfred sighed as he wrapped his hand around his cock, a disturbing loud grunt immediately escaping his lips at the balmy contact. Damn Arthur, damn England, damn Artie, damn whatever he calls him, this is his fault. If it weren't for him, he wouldn't be sitting on the toilet lid jerking himself off.

He tried to imagine the dancer without his leather pants, kneeling on the floor in front of him and sucking him to the fullest. Ah, those green and lustful desperate eyes watching him in half lids as he swirls his tongue on the head. Oh how it would make Alfred moan like some kind of a whore no one has encountered yet.

He started to pump faster, rolling his hips with the motion as he cried muffled words until he felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. He ran a finger on the head, imagining it was Arthur's hot tongue and immediately came on his palms.

He growled lowly to himself feeling satisfied yet, guilty. He hasn't even properly met the guy but he had already jerked at the image of him. He quietly rose up to wash his stained hands in the sink and he buckled his dirt-free pants afterwards. He better get back down in the kitchen and fix themselves something to eat since starving Arthur wasn't a good idea.

He went downstairs and he was only three steps away when he smelled something burning from the kitchen. His hero instincts came rushing to him like waterfalls and he immediately jumped down and dashed to the said place only to find a certain Brit happily singing while pulling a tray of what seems like... 'chocolate' out of the oven. Arthur must have sensed his presence since he turned around and gave the American an awkward smile. "H-hey there,"

Alfred beamed back and went towards him. "Hey, what's up?"

"Oh, I hope you don't mind but we haven't had dinner yet so I decided to bake something." Arthur replied and tilted the pan to let the other see his works.

The blue eyed man smiled widely, showing off his perfect white teeth and he grabbed the other to give him a short, meaningful side hug. "Thanks Artie! Really appreciated it!"

The Briton blushed but said nothing anyway. He tried to pry the other off but before he could protest, Alfred let go of him. He surely wasn't disappointed, not that he would admit it anyway.

"Okay, Artie, let's give this a shot." Alfred screamed and picked one up, waving it in the air to cool it down a bit. "Wow, your chocolate's rock hard."

Arthur's face paled and he quickly elbowed the other. "It's not chocolate, you git! These are scones!"

Alfred gave him a confuse look but shrugged anyway. "Whatever," He took a large bite and savored the black thing but it wasn't even a second later that he started spewing the food out of his mouth. "What in the world of fuck was that?!"

Arthur, startled and shock, looked away and hid his red face from the painter. He just humiliated himself in front of him and not just once, twice! Bloody twice in just one day and not to mention, his first day. His eyes watered for a bit and he blinked back the tears that was starting to form. "No, Arthur, it's bloody fine, don't you cry, dimwit." He whispered to himself and after a few seconds or so, he composed his posture and masked his sadness with a fake smile. "I'm sorry for that."

Alfred waved a free hand at him as the other tried to wipe off the excess flavor that had clung onto his tongue. "No problem, don't sweat on it." He smiled.

A while later, they decided that a pizza delivery would do.

"Ah, man, that was awesome!" Alfred moaned as he slide his back lower on the couch, his friend sitting a few spaces beside him. "Now I'm full."

Arthur said nothing but he did nod his head to show the other that he's listening. Truth to be told, he hasn't moved on yet about the cooking incident. He fully knows that his cooking sucks but he tried his best! He tried, and tried, and tried, only to fail at the end.

Alfred notices the stillness of Arthur (and the half eaten pizza on his hand) and he immediately knew that something wasn't right. "You okay, Artie?"

"For the last time, my name's Arthur." The Brit replied weakly.

Alfred sat up and scooted closer to the other. "Aw, what's wrong?"

Their shoulders bumped and Arthur swore he felt a low spark of electricity coming from the American, causing him to pull away all of a sudden. He gave him a forced smile and he held up his unfinished pizza. "You can have this, I'm pretty full."

Alfred's face contorted in horror and his hands quickly shot up to the other's forehead. He felt his temperature and he sighed in relief when he deciphered that the Brit wasn't sick. "Are you sure? I mean, that's only your second, you know?"

Arthur absentmindedly nodded and reached out his piece, only for the other to push it back to him. "What the bloody hell? I told you I'm full!"

Alfred mentally cringed at the loud tone and he hesitantly smiled at him. "W-well, no need to be upset, I'm just concerned about you anyway." He said.

Arthur's face heated despite his lonely situation but he decided to keep up his infamous scowl. "Thank you for the concern, but really Alfred, I'm full."

The American gave him a skeptical look and thought for a moment of what could be the matter. Okay, what did Arthur do again? He cooked him scones and he shamelessly denied it and-

A light bulb suddenly showed up above his head and his eyed widen in realization. "Oh God, gee, I'm still hungry!" The American whined as he scooted even closer, leaving no space in between the two of them. "I want to eat something!"

Arthur clicked his tongue and offered him his food but Alfred merely shook his head. "I was thinking of something other than that."

Arthur puffed his cheeks and looked away but the American held his head firmly in place, making him stare at his cerulean pools. "I'm serious." He muttered to him.

"You don't have much food in your refrigerator, what other food are you referring to?" Arthur asked and he quickly redden at the idea that Alfred might be suggesting something _perverted_. "U-unless you wanted my-"

"Yes, Arthur! I want to eat it!" Alfred piped up and moved away to give the other a thing called space. He childishly laughed and showed off his thousand watt smile.

"You must be joking me!" Arthur replied, his face turning a deeper shade of red each second.

"Nuh-uh! I'm hella' serious, bro! Give it to me, I bet it'll taste better than the first one that I have eaten!"

The Brit's breath caught in his throat and he felt his heart stopped shortly before running at a horse's pace. Alfred had already sucked someone off? "You know I can't just give you that, you bloody wanker!"

"Why not?" Alfred pouted and pulled his puppy eyes trick again knowing that the he has a knack on it. "Please, I swear I'll eat 'em all!"

 _D-does he want my hole too?_ Arthur shook the ridiculous idea off his head and he slowly reached a hand to his zipper. "O-okay then, if you're really _that_ eager then I guess I might give you what you want,"

He stood up and he looked away as his hands slowly pulled the fly downwards and Alfred suddenly cut him off.

"What the heck are you doing?" He asked obliviously as he followed the other's hand.

Arthur rolled his eyes at him and gestured his lower region. "You said you wanted to eat it."

Alfred suddenly became quiet and Arthur suspended his actions. Didn't Alfred said he want it?

" ...I meant your scones, dude." The painter suddenly said and if Arthur could ask the floor to swallow him down, he would have done it at the moment. His face was now redder than blood and he mentally beat himself up.

"E-eh?"

"Your scones... not your-"

"Bloody hell, this is the third time already!" The poor Brit screamed as he marched towards his room, leaving a confuse American sitting on the couch with a baffled expression.

"Well, I'm still eating them!" Alfred called out as he slowly rose to head towards the kitchen. Well, maybe he had to make an accurate sentence the next time.

 **A/N:** Hey there again! Thank you so much for the awesome reviews! I'm sorry if I have errors :( I don't have enough time to edit this and school's a few days away so I'm pretty much busy. Stay tuned~!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Alfred woke up with a bad stomach the next day, in courtesy of Arthur's scones, but that didn't stop him from beaming and jumping downstairs energetically. All he needed was a large amount of coffee to drain all those unhappy chow inside his stomach.

He started cooking pancakes enough for the both of them and made Arthur tea out of politeness. He also fixed the table and feed Ace, his tomcat. The reason why Alfred was doing all of this was because he was excited. He couldn't wait to paint his fellow chap and a bubbling feeling won't leave the pit of his stomach until that.

"Good morning," A familiar accented voice suddenly resounded not far from where Alfred was crouching and the American rose up from his position.

"Good morning Art- What the hell is that, bro?" The moment Alfred's eyes landed on Arthur, he burst out laughing and unintentionally made the Brit pissed.

"What are you chortling about, you bloody git?" The green eyed man hissed.

"You dress like an old fella, you know?" Alfred said in between laughs as he repeatedly slammed his palm against his thigh. "I didn't know that a hot man like you could be a grandpa too!"

"Do you fancy a punch in the face early in the morning, Jones?" Arthur asked, the corner of his right mouth ticking frequently and his fists waiting for the other to say yes.

Apparently, Arthur's words seems to have sunken deep inside the American's brain for he ceased in an instant and chose to watch the tomcat greedily gobble his food. "I'm just kidding, dude."

Arthur huffed and sat on an empty chair across the American who decided to do the same. "I cooked this for us so don't be afraid to take some, okay?" The painter said as he pushed the golden brown pancakes towards the other, urging him to take some first. "I also made tea for you although I don't think it's the best one you've tasted."

Arthur blushed at his polite manners and he smiled softly at him. "That's very nice of you,"

"Only for the Brit," Alfred said.

They started eating their own share and they were only halfway to finishing their breakfast when Alfred opt to thank him for last night. "Oh, thank you for the scones by the way, they didn't really taste bad at all to be honest."

Arthur abruptly stopped his actions and he slowly lowered his fork down. His face began to burn as he reminisced the memories regarding the previous night. "O-oh, I'm glad you liked it." He stuttered while another set of perverted thoughts bang his head.

Alfred threw him a long beam and he saluted playfully. "No problem, bro!" He said as he gorged down the fluffy flat cakes.

The conversation ended as soon as it had started and the only sounds present were the clanking of the utensils. Arthur always likes a quiet environment but this one was driving him nuts. After he gulped down a good amount of tea, he decided to make a small chat.

"Alfred," He called his attention and the blue eyed man rose his head up. "Can you please tell me about your job?"

The man who was being inquired awkwardly shifted from his seat and he gave a small nervous laugh. "Why?"

"I don't know, I just want to get to know you," Arthur stated.

Alfred hesitantly stared at him but he sighed seconds later. "Okay then, but don't speak until I'm done, alright?"

The Englishman nodded in agreement.

"Me and Gilbert, my current boss, were best friends since high school and we both dreamed of becoming successful one day." He started but he paused to take a sip from his coffee and Arthur merely ignored the grammatical error, telling himself that he would fix that later after the man's finished.

"We promised to stay by each other's side no matter what happens and when we graduated, I instantly became wanted, but he wasn't lucky enough. Still, we pledged to work with each other since he has taken a liking towards my pieces.

"At the age of 22, Gilbert inherited his father's hotel since the good man passed away and he was the only one who was old enough to take over as the owner. I was only 19 at that time." Alfred paused when he saw the confuse look etched on Arthur's face and he laughed softly. "I'm actually advance and Gilbert kinda repeated his grade so that made us both graduate at the same time."

Arthur nodded at the newly learned knowledge and he urged the other to continue.

"Later, we both became successful and Gilbert decided to take me as the hotel's official painter. I was blinded by our whole pledge and friendship thing that I immediately said yes and turned down the other better opportunities. I even quit my last job. Well, I could say that that was one wrong move for me.

"Gilbert slowly changed throughout the years and he slowly took pride of my paintings, he even bragged it to everyone. He became greedy for money and fortune, and guests often choose his hotel for the 'awesome' artworks." He stopped talking to take another gulp of his beverage.

"He started being a total bitch, denying my 'unawesome' paintings if they weren't that grand and enormous. He even threatened to change me if I don't satisfy him by the end of the week." Alfred said but deep inside, he knew that Gilbert doesn't have the guts to do that or maybe he was just afraid to admit that his 'best friend' _do_ have the guts. "So that's how it is, the main reason why you're sitting across me."

Arthur was quiet for a few seconds, waiting for the other to carry on but he figured out that that was the end. "Oh," He uttered, dumbfounded. "What an asshole."

Alfred laughed and clanged his utensils together. "Yep," He agreed happily but his features soften seconds later. "But he's a good guy to tell you the truth."

Arthur was unconvinced and he stubbornly crossed his arms above his chest. "I'm not buying it," He grumbled but something clicked inside his head. "Wait, didn't you say he would fire you if you wouldn't please his taste by the end of the week?"

Alfred unhappily nodded his head.

Arthur felt deep concern for the other so with clenched fists and firm gaze, he boldly said what he wanted to say.

"Let's start working, Alfred!" He said firmly as he rose up. "I don't want you to lose your job because believe it or not, you're too great to be fired."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"A-Alfred, this is quite uncomfortable."

"Oh, I'm sorry, maybe we should just change your position."

"Yeah, that'll be pleasant. My back aches a little to be honest and I think my legs are asleep now,"

"Sorry for that," Alfred said as he gently grabbed Arthur's hand. "Come here and just wrap your arms around my neck,"

The Brit made a choking sound at the back of his throat but he obliged anyhow at the other's request.

"Good," Alfred murmured as he wrapped his own on his waist. "I'll just carry you towards the couch so don't squirm, 'kay?"

Arthur was about to argue and tell him he could do it on his own but he wasn't able to spit out a word when he felt himself being lifted. He unconsciously writhed a little but he tightened his grip anyway. "I can actually do it, you know?" He grumbled under his breath.

"I didn't say you can't," Alfred answered back and he cringed when Arthur hit his toned chest with his balled up fist. "But I insisted so yeah,"

The American carefully placed him on the couch and he sighed a little when Arthur's warmth slowly dissipate. "See, you were so eager that you just posed then and there without thinking that you're going to stay like that for the next hours."

The Britton puffed his slightly tainted cheeks and he looked away from Alfred's view. "Whatever," He murmured bitterly. "I know it's my fault,"

Alfred's smile slowly dropped and he turned his head away, feigning hurt and disappointment. "How rude," He pouted and spoke loudly. "I didn't even receive any sorry nor apology, doesn't anyone know that I had already drew half of him?"

Arthur bit his lower lip to stop himself from cursing. Well, he admits that he's reckless in regarding this matter but the only reason was Alfred himself. He wanted the man to paint him as soon as possible so that he could submit his work and avoid being replaced. He wanted him to have his job because he's definitely worth it. Wait, how many times did Arthur said that?

"Aw, my hands are aching, what a bother." The blue eyed man interrupted his thought and shook the said part of his body. He plummeted down beside the Brit and continued to whine. "I swear the pain won't go until morning and I will not be able to sleep comfor- what the fuck are you doing?"

Alfred stopped mid-sentence when Arthur scooted closer to him and took his aching hand in between his own. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." The dancer said as he pressed his fingertips on the other's skin, a wide scowl etched on his red face.

"You didn't answer my question," Alfred pointed out.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Arthur snapped and paused his actions. "I'm obviously massaging you,"

The bespectacled man kept his mouth shut and he only stared at him in astonishment.

"B-but it's not that I'm doing it because I pity you," The green eyed man said. "It's just that it's…" He trailed off when his tongue wasn't able to form another word and his cheeks automatically turned hotter. He just decided to continue kneading the other's palm.

Alfred wasn't really lying when he said that it was sore but he didn't really think that the other would take it seriously. He gaze at him for a while and his heart's pace quicken just by him doing absolutely nothing. He took notice of his features, from the way his enormous brows crease to the way his blonde lashes flutter when he blinks. Alfred didn't know what urged him to move but before he could make out what he was doing, his lips were already planted on the other's cheek.

"W-what the-" Arthur stammered as they pulled away at the same time. Did Alfred just kiss him?

He brought his fingers to the certain part of his face and he softly grazed it while settling his eyes on the floor. It was just a microsecond yet, the feeling of his lips lingered on his cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry," Alfred stuttered loudly as he hastily stuffed his shaking hands inside his pocket. "R-really, I was under a magical trance and it's actually normal s-so don't think that it was something. That was just a mere thank you." He added a laugh to lighten up the atmosphere but it only made it sound like he just obviously shitted and he's trying to deny it.

Arthur's heart banged repeatedly against his ribs that it vibrated all throughout his chest and his back. He stiffened for awhile and he deciphered that it would take so much time before he would regain his composure.

Bad news, Alfred is currently experiencing the same thing.

The atmosphere around them turned weighty and the only thing they could actually hear was the sound of their own heartbeats. They sat there in complete silence until Arthur noticed that the phone's been ringing in a jiffy and he, thankfully, snapped out of his daze.

"A-Aren't you going to answer that?" He asked him but kept his eyes transfixed on the floor.

Alfred quickly rose to his feet and he gave the other an awkward smile. "Oh, yes, yes." He said as he rubbed the nape of his neck. "I'll go get it,"

"Yeah," The Brit said and as the American's back disappeared around the corner, Arthur took his sweet time pushing back the tingling feeling pestering him for a while.

"Stupid dork," He muttered under his breath.

 **A/N:** Hey poppets! I don't know if this made any sense since I don't even know how I gave birth to this chapter... XD Please send me your reviews guys, it's been awhile since the last review and I don't know if what I'm writing is okay or nah...


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Get dress," Alfred suddenly spurted as he approached the sitting man on the couch, the activity from earlier completely forgotten. His face was contorted in annoyance and anxiety as he tried to balance the phone in between his shoulder and ear. "We have somewhere to go,"

Arthur lifted his head up and glanced at the American's face but before he could question him why, the said man sent him a stern look and it made him scramble to his feet towards his room. At least they won't be spending more time together and make things extra awkward.

Arthur quickly shut the door of his space and scuttled to where his little pack was. "What to wear, what to wear?" He repeated to himself as he ran his fingers through his matted blond hair. Damn Alfred for not telling him where they'll go. How is he supposed to find a suitable attire for the event?

He let out a frustrated sigh as he slumped face first on the bed and as if on cue, a couple of hasty knocks resounded from the door followed by a; "Get ready in five minutes, Artie. I'll just take a fast bath and then we're out."

The Briton grunted in reply before pulling himself together. Seriously, who was on the phone and where are they going?

His eyes lazily roamed around the room and only stopped when they settled upon an all too familiar paper bag. He picked the said thing up and skimmed the contents before a smug smile appeared on his lips.

"Arthur, you ready-?" Alfred stopped himself from saying more words when his eyes landed on the dancer. His cerulean orbs subconsciously wandered the other's lean but toned figure and his jaw abruptly fell open.

Who would have thought that the Arthur Kirkland, with just a simple trench coat and a scarf, would look seriously dashing?

"Alfred," Arthur coughed and suppressed himself from blushing. "If you're going to treat me like some sort of an eye candy, at least do it secretly. Don't be obvious."

The called man turned a deep shade of scarlet and he quickly stuttered a reply. "Oh, God, no, no- I wasn't-"

"Alfred, you said we have somewhere to go."

"Yes," The American shut himself and went for the door, sweeping past an equally flustered Brit.

He climbed towards his truck and waited for Arthur hop in before turning the engine on. As his feet pressed against the accelerator, Arthur decided to speak.

"Where are we heading?"

Alfred tapped his fingers against the wheel and decided to rest his other elbow on the open wind shield. "We're meeting my brother at the airport,"

"Y-you're brother?" Arthur stammered nervously. Why did he have to come along? That would be totally embarrassing!

"Correction, my _twin_ brother." Alfred stated bitterly, emphasizing the word 'twin' while his charming cute face scrunched up in a pestered look.

Arthur gaped at the new information from the painter and he tried to pin that inside his head. Alfred has a twin? No matter how unbelievable the idea was, Arthur couldn't stop himself from fawning over the two Americas.

"And oh," Alfred decided to continue when he saw the dreamy look plastered on the dancer's. "We're the complete opposites so don't get your hopes up. He's not even gay…" The last part was just a murmur but Arthur was able to catch it.

"Oh," He uttered, speechless. "Does he know you're-"

"Of course, he knows but he doesn't care anyway."

Arthur nodded and patted the others arm to show unneeded sympathy and Alfred only smiled in return.

"And by the way, it seems like he's staying in my house for a while so I guess we have to… um," Alfred trailed off as his cheeks burned . "Er…"

"Spit it out, Jones."

Alfred rubbed the nape of his neck and he casts a glance towards Arthur. "We have to share the bedroom."

The green eyed man mechanically leaped from his seat and, no doubt, hit his head against the roof. A sense of déjà vu washed against Alfred and he chuckled quietly despite the heavy atmosphere.

"What the bloody hell did you just say?" Arthur spat, ignoring the building pain on the top of his head. "We have to _share_?"

A short nod proved what he heard was right. "I have no choice, okay?" Alfred retorted.

"B-but, you and your twin brother are supposed to be the one sharing, not us!"

The American sighed deeply before rubbing his temple. "I, for a _bazzilion_ years, will never, ever, share a bed with that idiot!"

"And I'm quite surprise that came out from your mouth," Arthur sneered before staring at the whipping trees they pass by through the window. It won't hurt if they would stay inside the same room, right? Ah, but Arthur has some 'unexpainable' feelings towards the American...

"Okay then," The Briton whispered. Screw everything and let the wind carry him.

Alfred couldn't help but grin widely at his response. He quickly pulled over at the side of the road and threw Arthur a bear hug, sticking onto him like a piece of gum. He can't hide how much the other man made him happy."One more thing though," Alfred whispered on his ear as he tightened the embrace. "Be my boyfriend,"

 **A/N:** Hey there once again! Thanks for the reviews and I'm sorry if the chapters are short, this book was meant for Wattpad and I'm still a little confuse as to how to use FanFiction XD Anyhow, my oh my, it's been a while since the last one, eh? School's a wee bit hectic and I have no time for writing. I'll try my best to make the next chapter longer and much more interesting :)

P.S. Any idea who's Alfred's twin? :3


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"B-be your what?!" Arthur shrieked as he lurched backwards, hitting his spine against the inner part of the door. If Alfred wasn't driving right now, he would have bounded out the car and roll onto the asphalt, but then again, Alfred wasn't driving, why isn't he moving? "You bloody git! How can you propose such thing in a bold manner?!"

The bespectacled blond swallowed a lump that had formed in the back of his throat and deliberately avoided the other's insistent gaze. "Erm... I dunno, dude. But trust me, bro's not the type of peep who easily trusts people. The only thing I could persuade him from keeping you is to pretend that the two of us are..." His voice faded out and he awkwardly rubbed the nape of his neck. "-dating."

Arthur chewed on his lower lip before rubbing the heels of his palm against his eyes. He felt endeared to be frank and thinking of him and Alfred as an item made his guts do a triple somersault. It made him feel warm and all tingly inside. It made him feel in love and Arthur didn't like that one bit. "What about... friends?" He suggested.

"Huh?"

"Why not tell him we're close friends, or maybe best friends."

Alfred sent him a terrified look before shaking his head no. The word 'best friend' doesn't suit them nor their relationship, heck, Alfred nearly gag at the idea. It made him uncomfortable and sore somewhere deep inside his chest. "No way in hell I would allow that to happen! B-but it's not that I don't like you or somethin', of course I like you! It's just that I'm-"

"Alfred, you're hyperventilating." Arthur cuts him off.

"No, Arthur, listen to me! We can't be friends for heaven's sake! I'm gay, you're gay, two gays can't be just friends!"

And there goes the bomb of heavy silence, exploding and causing them to shut their mouths tight. They might be gay but the remark seems foreign and 'gauche' to them especially when rolling down Alfred's tongue. Also, the American's the dorkiest of dorks, Arthur noted.

With a deep sigh, the dancer nodded his head in a quiet agreement. "Sure then,"

Alfred's eyes were as wide as saucers and the look he's currently wearing made Arthur snicker inside his head. "A-Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to-"

"I'm q-quite fine with it, mate." Arthur assured, cheeks beet red and flushed. "Although I'm wondering if there's another reason," The last part was a soft murmur but Alfred was able to catch it.

He laughed in a nervous manner and he flashed him a grin that seemed to be forced. "You wanna know about it?"

Arthur, though a bit surprised, mumbled a short 'yes'. He was supposed to say that what he said earlier was sarcasm but when Alfred started the car again and began driving towards the airport, he had no choice but to listen.

Arthur was pissed. He didn't want to show it but he's pissed, pissed at Alfred and his idiotic brain. The 'You wanna know about it' was a complete bullshit, a pointless strings of sentences that Arthur found infuriating to listen to. He _kind of_ hoped that Alfred would compliment him (not that he's anticipating for it!) but the painter had magically shifted the topic from his oh-so-mind-blowing accent to why are cheeseburgers good looking in commercials and not in real life. He wanted to slam his head against the glass window but stopped midway when Alfred suddenly hit the brakes.

"We're here!" He announced, fist pumping the air.

Arthur was torn between sighing in relief and sighing in annoyance. Now he have to face two American idiots. Well, he hasn't met Alfred's twin yet so he's not in the correct place to judge... wait.

"Hey, you haven't told me his name yet!" Arthur cried as he slammed the door close, Alfred mimicking his actions. "I don't want to be awkward in front of him, you know?"

"Oh," They started to walk to the waiting area side by side, and without really noticing it, their fingers began to intertwine. "I'm sorry, I think it slipped my mind," Alfred laughed. "His name is Allen, your highness."

"Hmm, Allen..." Arthur parroted, feeling the way his name tastes in his mouth. "Nice,"

Alfred's eyes squinted behind his glasses and a glint of jealousy glimmered through his orbs for a split second. "You think it's nice?" _I think mine is nicer..._

Arthur threw him 'the look'. "Yes," _But I guess, yours is way better..._

They were silent for a while, both of them staring at each other's eyes when all of a sudden, a frantic cry erupted out of nowhere.

"Porkchop!"

Alfred turned, his grip tightening and he bewilderedly looked down at their intertwined fingers before pulling away from Arthur, cheeks red and warm. "Don't call me that!" He barked at his twin afterwards.

"Meh, whatever. Nice to see you again!" Allen sent him a flying kiss before throwing Alfred his luggage and bags. He then craned his neck to the side to see who was behind his sibling. "And who do we have here?" He whistled.

Arthur awkwardly shuffled his weight on one foot to another before reaching his hand out for the other to shake. "M-my name's Arthur Kirkland, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Allen." He paused, unsure of what to say next. "Alfred has been talking about you a lot."

Allen lifted a brow up at that and threw an amuse look over his shoulder to his twin brother. "Really?" He then gazed at the extended hand of Arthur Kirkland and he took it in his own. "Sounds fictional to me," He kissed the back of it and he smiled sweetly at the beautiful lad in front of him.

Arthur blushed and almost sputtered but he was able to compose himself. Allen may look a lot like Alfred, only with dyed red hair and tanner skin, but that doesn't mean he's comfortable with him...

"Okay, back off, Cabbage. He's mine." Alfred stated with a stern look, making him look way older than he is. Arthur thought about their talk not long a moment ago and he wondered if Alfred was only acting or...

"Yes, I forgot to mention I am Alfred's boyfriend!" It was a hasty, really-embarrassing statement and it's a miracle that Arthur was still standing and not lying dead on the floor.

Alfred parted his lips then closed it, then parted it again, but no words came out of his mouth. He was too dumbstruck to say anything and his heart started banging against his rib-cage, it was painful. Allen took the chance to say something.

"Well then, I guess I have some interrogation to do," He grinned lopsidedly and winked at a really red Arthur. "For the mean time, call me detective Jones. I sense something fishy."

 **A/N:** Hola! I'm back from the dead! It's been a while, a long freaking while! Ugh, I'm so sorry, I just finished my exams and school was pretty hectic. Can you believe it? My teachers bombarded us with projects and I had zero-time for this! But good news, I'm back and will update every week end! I'm sorry if this one has mistakes though, it's actually 3 AM right now and I'm half asleep while writing this. My brain's too rattled to make some editing so forgive me! 'Till next time :)

P.S.  
Your comments are really hilarious, keep 'em up!

P.P.S  
Yep, it's Allen, peeps! For those who got it right, here's an imaginary hug!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"You know what?" Allen muttered as he sat inside Alfred's Chevy truck, unfortunately, on the shotgun seat. He left the door open so that he could watch the two outside. One was busy putting the bags inside the trunk while the other was busy assisting.

"What?" Alfred shouted in reply as he sent him an utmost glare.

"Not you, Pork chop!" He snickered shortly. "Hey, Kirk! I was talking to you."

Arthur, who was in the middle of chucking his bag, abruptly tilted his head up and quirked a rather thick brow. "Yes?" He asked, then he faced Alfred for no reason. The bespectacled man smiled halfheartedly before mumbling 'It's fine'.

"C'mere, I need to tell ya somethin'."

The dancer shifted awkwardly but Alfred grabbed his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be fine, babe."

The pet name and the tone was enough to encourage Arthur. He stepped away and walked towards Allen, smiling nervously the whole time. "What can I do for you?" He choked out.

"You can actually give me a good blowjob but I figured out that could wait so... for the mean time, tell me when did you two become an official thing."

Arthur's pulled up grin dissipated and he awkwardly fiddled with the insides of his trench coat. Alfred was right, Allen doesn't certainly trust people but he left out the fact that he's twin was dead nosy. "I-I want to help Alfred, he seems to be-"

"All's done." The said man suddenly announced as he slammed the trunk too loud. "Now what were you two talking about?"

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Alfred looped his arms around his waist, giving him a loose, but firm hug from the back. He felt his heart skipped a beat or two but he leaned back anyway, anticipating for the American's warmth.

Oh what would he say if Alfred did not interrupt?

"Aw, you two. You look cute together, did ya guys fuck already?" Allen cooed.

Arthur let out a strangled sound and Alfred immediately detached from him, wanting to punch Allen for his bluntness. The 'couple' awkwardly looked at each other in sheer humiliation and tried to conceal their red faces, but failed. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Allen spoke once again.

"Come on, speak up! You're killing my boner!"

"What the heck, dude?!" Alfred squawked as he launches and pinches his brother's cheek. "You are making Arthur really uncomfortable!"

"But I wanna know!"

"Actually, what is going on between Alfred and I is exclusive. Please, erm, respect that..."

Allen pouted and Alfred's jaw slacked in both amazement and embarrassment. The Englishman drew in sharp breaths from the bravery that he committed and he quietly thought to himself that _yes, he himself has a pair of balls._ Allen continued to stare.

"Well, it's officially dead." He commented a little while later with a straight face. "Come on, Pork chop, I'm hungry."

Alfred sighed in relief and gave the Brit a side hug, although he wished he could give him more than that. Maybe they'd talk about it later at night?

Gosh darn, Allen visiting him is both a blessing and a curse.

"Okay, I'd take this one too and a little vinegar would do, thank you!" Allen practically screamed at the waitress as he pointed numerous vegetable dishes on the menu.

Both the painter and the dancer sat across him and both had a morose expression smeared on their faces.

"He eats just like you, love." Arthur muttered although his voice held nothing but dread.

"I know, the only difference is that he eats..." A pause and a couple of wild gestures. "Vegetables."

"Did ya guys order already?" Allen suddenly barked at them and the two slowly shook their heads. "Why not?"

"This place is only for vegans, is that reason not enough?" Alfred whined. "Seriously, I could chomp a family size burger right now, I'm starving."

"Hey, hey, they have burgers here!"

Alfred stared at him with slitted eyes. "I don't trust their burgers here."

Arthur sat quietly in amusement as he listened to the two banter. He needed to gain Allen's trust but really, does he have to do that? He could just go home and... and oh. Oh.

Damn, his fake boyfriend needed to pass his painting by the end of the week.

He shifted his gaze from Alfred to Allen. The two really look the same, although with only little differences, like Alfred with his glasses and Allen with his red hair. Moreover, Alfred seems to be the oblivious one whilst Allen might have the nose attuned to the delicate smell of bullshit.

Arthur feared the latter.

"My-oh-my, what a meal!" Allen screamed for the umpteenth that night as he pulled open the truck's door. He slipped in but not before slapping his belly in a proud mother-like way.

"Is he always like that?" Arthur asked Alfred and he shrugged.

"I suppose."

The dancer sighed tiredly and Alfred smiled down tenderly at him. "You seem to be exhausted."

"I am," Arthur admitted. He opened the vehicle's entrance and was about to climb in, but stopped midway and gave Alfred a tiny smile. "You know what," He started. "You and your twin are so alike."

"Hey, excuse you, Arthur!" Alfred bleated. "I am not the same with that swine beside the front seat!"

The Briton rolled his emerald eyes at him. "I am certainly in shock hearing that come out of your mouth, but you didn't let me finish." He leaned towards the other's ear and whispered something barely audible. "You two are the type who would jump off a cliff if your mother's not looking. But you, Mr. America, would be the one carrying a first aid kit."

"I don't understand..."

"Geez," Arthur huffed. "You're both incompetent but you're better, not good nor bad but somewhere in between."

The dancer pulled away and smirked as he placed his face inches away from the painter. "I'd choose you over him anytime, any year, darling."

And with that, he disappeared inside leaving a beet red American.

 **A/N:** Hey, guys! I'm sorry for not updating immediately and I'm sorry for the short chapters. I'm not quite used in writing here since I'm a Wattpad writer. Anyhow, speaking of that, this is also available in Wattpad and it's more updated... (I'm always active in there). Until next time!


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